


Where You Stand

by PatchworkDragon



Category: NSYNC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-25
Updated: 2003-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:01:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkDragon/pseuds/PatchworkDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris knows where Lance stands.  Baby!Sync angst for SkyMarie in the <a href="http://www.juppy.org/santa/">2003 DWNOGA.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkyMarie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=SkyMarie).



When Lance finished his song and opened his eyes, he could see the four guys grinning and hugging one another and he knew he had nailed it. The two men in suits were speaking to one another in hushed tones, and his mother, of course, was beaming with pride. Before he could take another breath the guys were surrounding him, absorbing him into their hugs.

"Wow, Lance, great voice." That was the kid, the one from Mickey Mouse Club, Justin.

"C'mon kid, let's go back here and talk while the grownups talk about you." Crazy hair... Chris, that's his name. They pulled him into a smaller room with a conference table. They sat in a row along one side of the table, and the big guy, Joey, pulled out a chair in the center of the opposite side before joining his friends. It felt like a scene in a movie, like he was on trial or something.

"So, Lance, we need to see whether you are compatible with us personality-wise. We're like a family, and we want our new bass to be part of our family too."

"Ok, what do you want to know?" He said softly, a bit nervous.

"How would you feel about missing out on the end of High School and just getting a tutor?" That was JC, the older guy from Disney.

"I wouldn't mind too much, especially if I'm performing instead."

"Would you be leaving some special girl if you moved to Orlando?"

"No." Lance surprised himself with his swift and short answer. Usually girlfriend questions left him blushing and confused, but when Joey asked with a bit of a leer, the truth came out easily.

Chris picked up a soda can, and held it up to his face "Mr. Bass, is it? Where do you stand on pizza toppings?"

He turned the ersatz microphone to Lance, who replied very seriously "Well, of course meat products of any type are the preferred topping, and artichokes are an abomination."

Justin grabbed the can from Chris. "I'm the cute one, JC is the serious one, Chris is the crazy one, and Joey's the bad one. Which one would you be?"

"I'll go with either the good one or the shy one." Lance replied. "Not that I'm really either, but we can't have any duplicates, right?

"What's your favorite sport?" asked Justin.

"To play or to watch? Cause playing, it's tennis, but watching it's baseball."

"What do you do for fun?" asked Joey.

"Either hang out with friends, or play video games."

"Hang out with friends? Do you have any close friends you would be leaving behind?" JC might be the serious one, but he was not above playing microphone with the can just like everyone else.

"Nah, not any one close. I'm in a sort of group of friends from show choir, but my only close friend moved out of town last year."

Chris got the can back from Justin, and held it up. "Where do you stand on gays in the military - I mean gays in boy bands - I mean gays in pop male vocal groups?"

The room was silent, as if everyone were holding their breath. This question was probably the most important one. Lance looked straight into Chris's eyes and gave a slow, lazy grin that somehow made him look older than sixteen. "If y'all let me join your band, I'll stand right in the closet with the rest of them."

Just then the door opened and Diane Bass called out "Lance, can you come here a minute?" As he stood to follow her, Lance heard Chris's stage whisper. "He's cool, can we keep him?" He grinned to himself as he shut the door behind him.

* * *

"So, Mrs. Bass, are we in agreement?"

"I'd like to talk with my son privately for a bit, and if there is a phone so that I could call my husband?"

"Of course. Here, use this office, dial nine for an outside line."

"Thank you, Mr. Pearlman." Diane said as she shut the door behind him.

"Well, Lance, are you sure about this?"

"Definitely. I get to perform, and I get out of school. They seem like great guys, and underneath all the joking I can already tell that they're serious, they're willing to do the hard work to make it."

"And you'll be ok out here, away from everyone you know?"

"Yes, Momma. I really kind of like the idea of starting out somewhere new. I don't have any good friends at home, you know that."

"I know, it's just ... you're right." Even now she wasn't comfortable talking about his problems at school, Lance could tell as she quickly changed the subject. "Ok, this contract here. It looks pretty good, and they seem professional. Those two boys have been in the business before, and I think if they are happy with the deal it should be OK for you. But this morality clause, did you see this? It means you'll have to stay in the closet, at least until they need you too much to invoke it."

"It doesn't seem that harsh to me, as long as I don't do anything illegal or get written up in the papers or something. But you're right. I'll have to keep it to myself, Mr. Pearlman doesn't seem like a member of PFLAG. But from what they guys were asking me, I'm not the only one in the band with this … issue. I know they'll accept me, and that's what is important for us to work together."

"You're not planning on getting involved with one of them, are you?"

"Jeez, Mom." He knew he was blushing. "I know better than to date a coworker. C'mon, Mom, smile. You're little boy is gonna be a star."

"My little boy is going to grow up too fast. Are you sure you really want this group, not just a way out of our quiet town?"

"I'm sure, Mom. I can see how much these guys want to succeed, and what's what I want too. I'm ready to start a career."

"Ok. Let's call your father and give him the news."

* * *

"Chris, Susan, it's dead tonight. One of you can go home now, I don't care which."

As the manager walked away, Chris looked at Susan. She looked as exhausted as he felt, but he knew the had kids depending on every penny she could bring home.

"You need the hours?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. Thanks Chris. I owe you one."

"No problem. I've got an early rehearsal tomorrow anyway. The couple at fourteen just sat down, I haven't even got their drink order yet."

"Ok, I'll get right over there. Thanks again."

Chris sighed as he pulled of his apron and clocked out. He could really use this money, but when he looked at Susan he saw his mother. She was still struggling, still trying to make ends meet and keep the girls fed and clothed. He wanted to send her more, but he couldn't bring himself to fight Susan for hours.

Bidding the manger goodnight, he crossed the mostly empty parking lot to his car in the far corner, hoping it would start. It did, and he made it home in one piece.

When he came in, he saw Lynn reading on the couch.

"You're home early."

"Yeah, the place was empty so they sent me home."

"Lance just went up to bed about half an hour ago, he's probably still awake."

"Thanks. Night, Lynn."

He slipped quietly into the room he shared with Lance, lifting the door just a little as he opened it to prevent the squeak. Lance's futon was tucked behind a dresser, giving him a tiny bit of privacy and blocking the view from the door. The light from the streetlight outside lit up a diagonal patch on the wall above Lance's area, giving Chris just enough light to navigate through the clothes and shoes on the floor.

He glanced over as he shut the door, trying to tell if Lance was awake, and he froze. He could see Lance's feet on the bed, nothing more. The feet were bare, on top of the covers in spite of the chill breeze coming in the open window. Chris grinned as he saw one foot jerk, and heard a low moan. Unable to resist, he crept closer to peer around the dresser. Lance's legs were drawn up, knees in the air and feet sliding a bit on the bed. Not letting himself think about what he was doing, Chris took one more step to get a better view.

_I thought he was hung, but wow. That's impressive. And adventurous._ Chris bit back a moan at the sight of two fingers disappearing into Lance's ass, as the other hand jerked frantically at his cock.

With uncharacteristic patience and stillness, Chris watched as Lance brought himself to a peak. He was just regretting that he couldn't see Lance's face when suddenly he could. Lance sat up as he came, opening his eyes and staring right at Chris.

Chris was frozen in place, unable to move or speak. He couldn't look away from Lance's eyes, gleaming like green ice in the moonlight.

"See something you like?" Lance said, a bit breathless.

"Not going there," Chris said, shaking his head and taking a step back. "Talk to me when you're legal, Bass." He fled. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept on the couch, or the last.

* * *

They were spending the afternoon with quizzes from three different German teen magazines. Of course, after they were done the PR guy would 'correct' their answers. Lance looked at the next question on his and smiled. 'Favorite Pizza topping'. It had been more than a year since his audition, and he must have matured since his answer was now bell peppers.

"I hate these stupid quizzes," Justin whined.

Chris tossed his pencil away in frustration. "Yeah, why do fans want to know our favorite color? And what kind of question is 'what is your hidden talent'? If I put that in a magazine, it's not hidden anymore, now is it?"

"Chris, are you expecting logic from a teenie magazine?" Lance frowned.

"Sorry. That's not very reasonable of me, is it."

"Well, watch it. You're the mature, older one, remember?" Lance said, his smile peeking through the false frown. Chris stuck out his tongue.

"So what are you going to put for hidden talent?" Justin asked JC.

"I was going to put standing on my hands," he answered.

"No, don't. If you do that, they'll be asking you to do it at every meet and greet," Chris warned. "Think of something they can't make you demonstrate on camera."

"I can make any woman come without taking off my clothes."

"Joey!" Lance exclaimed, his face turning red. A year was not long enough to get used to how these guys talked.

"Yeah Joey, don't embarrass our little innocent southern boys." Chris said as he mussed Lance's hair.

Justin grinned. "I'm not embarrassed, I want to know how to do it!"

"It's a talent, dude. Either you've got it, or you don't. Can't be taught," Joey said smugly.

"Besides, Joey, it's not like they'd be in the mood after you take off your clothes." Lance quipped.

"Poofu!" Chris crowed, clapping him on the back "I have taught you well, my son. Now we just need to work on the speed of your comebacks."

Justin said thoughtfully "I could say beatboxing. I don't mind if they ask me to demonstrate that."

"Justin, hidden means something you don't do all the time, in front of everyone," JC frowned.

"Well, Lou won't let me do it on stage, so it's hidden from the fans."

"Hey, I think he's got a good idea." Lance had that devious look they were all learning to trust. "Say something you want to do on stage, and get the fans asking for it. Then maybe Lou will let us add to the show."

JC smiled widely, his eyes crinkling up. "Ooh - I could say songwriting. Then they'll ask what I've written."

"I could say singing solos," Joey said excitedly.

"I could say singing without dancing." Lance said wryly.

* * *

Lance looked up as Chris flopped onto the bed beside him. They rarely shared hotel rooms, but JC had begged for the single to entertain his latest girlfriend. Joey had immediately called sharing with Justin, since Lynn had ruled some time back that Chris could not share with Justin. Not that anyone but the two of them argued with that pronouncement; no one wanted a repeat of the incident with the flaming marshmallows in the coffee maker. Lou had taken the damages out of everyone's paychecks.

"Dude, this is my bed. Yours is over there."

Chris ignored him, as he had expected. "So, Lanceten, have you chosen a hidden talent to reveal to the fans?"

"I put that I'm good at math. Not like they're going to test me in public, right? And it's true. That's the only one I could think of that's sort of hidden, but I don't mind revealing it."

"So what talents do you not want to reveal?" Chris wasn't going to give up until he got something good out of this. He still felt like he barely knew the boy.

"Well, I thought about saying the voices I do, y'know, imitations. But they aren't that good. Besides, that could get really annoying to be put on the spot all the time."

"I can see that. You could put that you're learning to deliver a major putdown, but that would hardly enhance our good-boy image."

"See, that's the problem. Ability to drink any of y'all under the table doesn't fit with the whole sweet and innocent thing Lou wants me to live up to. Most of my talents don't exactly fit that."

"And what are these non-sweet and innocent talents you've been hiding?"

"If I told you, they wouldn't be hidden anymore, would they."

Chris considered reminding him of Justin's argument that they were only talking about talents hidden from the fans, but decided to try a different tack.

"I should put down the amazing Kirkpatrick footrubs, but then reporters would expect me to demonstrate."

"You, footrubs? How can you sit still long enough." Lance's curiosity was not purely academic. His feet ached.

"I honed my skills through years of practice on my mother. Anytime I wanted to ask her something and wanted to be sure she'd said yes, I'd give her a foot rub. No one can deny me anything in the middle of one of my super-duper footrubs." Chris' sense of fairness made him warn Lance, at least a little.

"I think I'll have to ask you to prove that." Lance said, twisting on the bed so that his feet pointed at Chris.

"On your skanky old feet? After two performances today?"

"My feet are not skanky. I've had four showers today."

"Four? You really are Mr. Clean," Chris said, taking off Lance's shoes "Ok, morning, and after each show, but where's the fourth one?"

"Um, right before the first show."

"But you had one before breakfast, your hair was still wet. Even you couldn't have gotten that dirty before the first show, we didn't do anything."

Lances blushed deeply. "I needed some private time."

"Ah, to be seventeen again," Chris said with a knowing grin. "Private time four times a day."

"No, not... just once, and just 'cause I walked in on JC doing his yoga."

"Ok, I'll admit only the terminally straight could withstand bendy Chasez without needing private time." Chris tried to picture it, but found his mind drifting to images of Lance in the shower. He had to be even more flexible now.

"You mean Joey."

"What?" Chris had a far away look in his eyes, and his hands stilled.

"Don't stop the footrub just 'cause you're imagining the Chasez yoga, Kirkpatrick. I still don't buy this talent of yours." Lance lied, wanting to keep the massage going as long as possible. Chris never admitted defeat easily, so this should work.

Chris started guiltily. _Remember, no perving on the jailbait. Especially not with his feet in your lap,_ he thought to himself as he concentrated on the massage.

"Ok, I'll admit your talent is almost as good as mine," Lance said with a drawl. The more relaxed he got, the more his accent showed through.

"And what is your mystery talent, Poofu?"

"Stop calling me that. Makes me sound like a kid."

"You are a kid. Not even legal."

"Legal in Germany. And Mississippi."

"Not Florida."

"We're not in Florida. Not sure my best talents are legal there at any age, so doesn't really matter."

Chris continued the footrub, watching Lance melt onto the bed. When he seemed completely boneless, Chris asked "What talents?"

"I've been told I give great head." Lance murmured sleepily.

Chris struggled not to react, not to startle Lance out of the nearly hypnotized state.

"Is that all?"

"Guy in the club last week said I was the best fuck he'd ever… ow! not so hard."

""Sorry. What the hell? You're fucking guys in clubs?"

"Guy's gotta get laid, as Joey would say. And I didn't fuck him, he did me." Lance swung his feet out of Chris' lap. "And what business is it of yours? I'm safe, I'm careful, I've been doing this for longer than you've known me. Never been caught, not going to happen." He stood up and pointed accusingly at Chris. "And you used your footrub powers for evil. Getting me all relaxed then questioning me. Not fair."

"Come back, Lance. I'm sorry, I just wanted to know your talent. And I overreacted."

"You knew, Chris. I told y'all the first day. You have no right to freak out on me now."

"It's not the gay, dude. I knew that. Weren't we just discussing the attractions of Chasez yoga?"

"Yoga in his boxers."

"Right, in his ... whoa..." Ok, that image was almost enough to distract him. But not quite. "Anyways, what freaked me was you picking up in clubs. Dude, you deserve better. You're seventeen, you should be dating, holding hands, staying out past curfew. Not fucking in a club."

"Chris, even back in Mississippi that's all I could get. I wasn't exactly out back there; no boyfriends or dating for me, not with my family. Or now, with the group. You don't freak out about JC picking up in clubs."

"Only half of those are guys. And JC can take care of himself." Besides, Chris admitted to himself, he did sometimes freak about JC. Joey too. Justin had his mother there to freak out for him.

"I can too." Lance said defensively. "I do. I'm safe," he repeated, "and if you hadn't noticed it before now there's no way any reporters or anyone are gonna notice."

"Lance, I'm not worried about that. Or only a little, as much as I worry about all you guys. It's you I'm worried about."

"And how do you propose I find a boyfriend? Lou doesn't want us dating girls, and you expect me to find a guy I can hold hands with? Much simpler, and much more satisfying, to sneak out to clubs and fuck someone in the men's room."

Suddenly Lance was in his face, and Chris was caught in that cool, green stare. Only this time it seemed more hot than cool. "Unless you're volunteering, Chris. Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

The memory of Lance's face, open in orgasm and shining in the moonlight crossed his mind. Chris took a step back. "Not a good idea, Bass. It would screw with the group dynamics."

Lance deflated, all the fire gone out. "Yeah, I've already heard that speech from C. At least you guys are consistent. Well, your loss."

"Lance, come back. We can talk."

"This conversation is over. I'm gonna see if Joey will switch with me, he owes me a favor."

* * *

"Lance, you ok?" JC looked genuinely concerned, and Lance sighed, putting down the book he'd been pretending to read.

"M'fine," he mumbled. "Just tired."

"For the last month? I don't think so." JC slid into he chair with him, though Lance would have sworn that he barely fit into it himself. "What's wrong?"

Lance tried the anger defense. "Is this why you switched with Justin? So you could interrogate me?"

"No, because Chris has been a total asshole. And between you and Joey, I'd rather room with Joey. And it's pretty obvious you don't want to be with Chris, so this was the best solution."

Lance tried not to stiffen at Chris's name, but the second time JC said it he couldn't help it. He sniffed a bit, hoping it sounded like a cold rather than stifled tears.

"Oh, hey, is it Chris? What happened?"

"I thought he liked me, but he doesn't. We've been flirting forever, I finally made a real pass at him and, and he turned me down. He said because of the group, but I don't think that's it."

"Why would he lie about that? Chris doesn't lie to us."

"Unless he thinks it will hurt our feelings. He, um, he found out something about me. And now he doesn't look at me, or talk to me, and he thinks I'm a slut."

"Because you came on to him, or because of the way you pick up in clubs?"

Lance cringed away, unable to meet his eyes. "You know about that?"

"I'm not as sleepy as I seem, hadn't you realized that?" JC said. "Lance, you are being a bit melodramatic about this. He doesn't hate you, he doesn't really think you're a slut. He thinks Joey's a slut, tells him so all the time. Don't you think if he felt that way about you he'd say so?"

"No. He only lies to save our feelings, remember? When he says that stuff to Joey, he sounds like he's admiring him. He means it as a compliment. Me, he's ashamed that he ever wanted me. He told me that I was worth more than one-night stands, but when I asked him if he would be my boyfriend, he freaked out. He doesn't want me now that he knows I'm slutty."

"Oh, honey, you are not a slut. I've watched you, kept an eye on you. You choose well, and you're safe, right?"

"Yeah," Lance whispered.

"Ok then. You're seventeen and healthy, naturally you want all the sex you can get. You're not using it for your career, I've seen you turn down those scummy guys Lou brings around. You're just indulging in mutual pleasure with another consenting adult. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"That's what I thought. But he was so angry at me, JC. Or not angry, but disappointed. And now it's like he's lost all respect for me."

"I think it's more himself he's disappointed at. He's been teasing you about being pure and innocent, all the time trying to protect your innocence, from outsiders and from himself. Now he sees that that's not who you are, he's taken a step back to think things out. That's how Chris always works."

JC had a point. Chris did distance himself from new situations, watching from afar to be sure he fully understood things before stepping in. Maybe that was that was happening. Lance sat quietly for a while, relaxing into JC's arms.

"JC, when you turned me down before, was it really because of the group? Do you think it would really mess things up for any of us to hook up?"

"If it went bad, it could. And with you so young, and me too, I admit it, it could go bad so easily. I've had two serious relationships, Lance, and both of them nearly destroyed me when they ended. I don't think I can risk it with you, any of you. You're more important to me than that, all four of you. And Chris, well, he's been watching you a long time, Lance. I wouldn't do that to him."

"Do what? He doesn't want me. He used to, he said wait till I'm legal. I've been legal since we got to Germany. I'm eighteen in three more months. Obviously he's changed his mind, because he didn't think twice before turning me down. And now he hates me."

"Lance, trust me. He doesn't hate you."

Lance knew that wasn't true, he'd seen how Chris couldn't look him in the eye anymore, how he was always watching him, waiting for him to slip up, embarrass them in public or get caught by Lou's people. But JC couldn't stand the idea of any of them being out of harmony, so he stopped arguing. And told himself he didn't care what Chris thought of him.

* * *

After that Chris watched Lance closely. He learned the subtle signs that showed when Lance had picked up the night before, a certain lazy smile at breakfast, a lack of tension in his dancing. When he actually found himself hoping that Lance would get lucky the night before a critical performance, he backed off. Tried to stop watching. Obviously the kid could take care of himself.

Then they had that game with Backstreet.

Despite the rivalry management played up in the press, they got along tolerably well. Yeah, they were competing for the same market, and yeah Backstreet were understandably a bit pissy about some of management's decision, but for the most part they could interact civilly, even have a bit of fun together.

So when Lance came back with that soft smile and that loose roll in his hips, it was not as shocking as it might have been, though it was not something Chris had expected. He figured it must have been Nick, that boy pinged like nobody's business and it couldn't have been AJ, since he'd been over here with Nsync. Chris felt a little of his worry loosen, thinking of Lance with someone his own age.

Though, if he was honest with himself he had to admit that his jealousy cranked up by the same amount. But Lance was off limits for group reasons more than anything else, and nothing there had changed, so Chris shoved his feelings down, as he had for almost two years now.

They were all in the lobby, Backstreet on the left and Nsync on the right, baggage and handlers everywhere. Everyone was exhausted, JC and Joey both drowsing on a couch with Justin sprawled across their legs. Lance was in an overstuffed chair, and at first Chris thought he was asleep, too. Then as he watched, Lance's legs slipped a bit further apart, his hand curling deliberately in front of his crotch. His eyes were slitted, even more catlike and alien than usual. Chris felt a pang deep inside, knowing that that look could have directed at him, if not for his principles. Stupid principles.

He turned towards the Backstreet side of the lobby, expecting to see Nick staring back at Lance. But Nick was wrestling with Brian and AJ, while Kevin looked on disapprovingly. It was Howie who was caught in Lance's gaze, his eyes wide and his mouth a little open. He looked, well, fucked. Or possibly well-fucked.

Chris stalked across the no-man's land at the center of the lobby, his eyes trained on Howie. Who had yet to look away from Lance. Chris could see the line between their eyes, and was about to step into it when a hand on his arm pulled him back. "Leave it alone, Chris," JC said. "Lance is an adult, and you turned him down."

"He told you?" Chris was shocked.

"He was kind of messed up for a while there. I guess he thought there was something between you, and you were just waiting for him to get old enough. But you made it clear months ago, and he's over you now. So don't mess this up for him."

"It's not going to work, C. We hardly ever see them, and they could go back to the States any week. And Howie's too old for him."

"Younger than you, and nicer. Actually, it's Howie I'm more worried about. He looks like he's been hit by a bus."

Chris looked back at Howie, then at Lance. Howie did look stunned, and Lance looked smug. None of his business. Right. Stupid JC and his stupid logic. Where did he get off being awake and alert just in time to stop Chris from making a fool of himself?

* * *

The thing between Lance and Howie lasted about three months. At first, Lance got flowers a couple of times before performances, and spent a lot of time on the phone. Chris got used to Justin showing up in his hotel room, looking for someplace to do his homework without having to listen to the phone sex. He got used to Lance's soft, almost vulnerable smile when he read the frequent postcards. But it couldn't last, not in this life. They didn't see each other for the whole three months, and Lance was not used to going without sex for more than a week. Not that Chris had been keeping track over the last year or so. Not at all.

Then the big bomb hit: Backstreet was going home. Not for a week, or a few days, but for good. Howie found a way to stay in Germany a day longer than the others, even made it out to an NSync performance. In the hotel afterwards, Justin slept in with JC and Chris so that the lovebirds could have their last night together.

That night, Chris listened in when Howie spoke to the bodyguards about getting to the airport the next morning. JC and Justin were not at all happy when the alarm went off at 5:30 in the morning, but they went right back to sleep as Chris crawled into some clothes and out of the room. He sat in the little lounge area by the elevator, where his vigilance was rewarded a few minutes later. Howie and Lance came out, carrying Howie's bags. Howie looked like shit, and they did not speak as they waited for the elevator. When it arrived they got in silently, still not noticing their observer. When the doors closed, Chris frowned. He hadn't seen Lance's face at all, but something had been off... The swagger was missing. Either they hadn't had sex, or parting from his lover was enough to make Lance loose the glow.

_If I were dumping the Bass, I'd make sure he was still feeling me a week later,_ Chris thought grumpily. He got a soda from the machine in the corner, and settled down to wait. Lance came back up about half an hour later, looking about as defeated as Chris had ever seen him.

"Hey, Bass."

Lance jumped a little. "Chris, hey. You didn't need to..."

"Just thought you might need a friend. C'mere," Chris said, holding his arms out.

Lance sighed deeply, shudderingly as if holding back a sob, and let Chris hug him. "Not here," he whispered, "my room."

When the door was locked, Lance toed off his shoes before collapsing on the bed. Chris did the same, sitting gingerly beside Lance, though the sheets looked mostly clean. Leave it to Lance to make his bed before escorting his lover to their final parting. Or maybe that had been Howie. He lay down beside Lance, not touching him yet.

"It was just," Lance choked back another sob. "Is it always this hard, Chris? I mean, I knew it wasn't forever. But I thought it could be a little longer. I thought I could get some of that boyfriend stuff, holding hands and long talks. You said I deserved that."

"What you deserve is not always what you get," Chris said sadly.

"Well, that was really helpful." Lance rolled his eyes. "Now you say 'time heals all wounds' and 'it has better to have loved' right?"

"No, now I say love sucks. It hurts when it ends, but it makes life better while it lasts. So all you can do is lick your wounds and keep on trying. This thing with you and Howie, it didn't have much of a chance, you know? No way for you to spend time together."

"I know. I know. It's just, no one ever wooed me before. It was really great. He made me feel special. Even not ever getting to see him, I knew he was thinking about me."

"You know, I'm kind of pissed at him. Just a little."

"Why? You still harping about the age thing?"

"Not exactly. More the experience difference. Even you knew it was a short-term thing, and he's been around. He shouldn't have gotten your hopes up so high."

"He's a romantic, I guess. He kept saying we could make it work, even with the age difference and the being on different continents, and the professional rivalry. He wanted to stay together. But I just couldn't take it Chris, I couldn't keep going, wondering who he was with and if he was even thinking of me anymore. I guess I'm not cut out for relationships." The tears that Lance had been restraining began to leak out, and Chris wrapped an arm around him. Lance burrowed into his side, his forehead poking uncomfortably into Chris's ribs.

"Hey, dude," Chris said, "That's not it. I mean, I was nineteen before I had a relationship that lasted a full three months, and I'd been dating since I was sixteen. And I've never even tried the long distance thing. You're still learning, this is just your first time, right? You've got plenty of time to get it right."

"I wish," Lance snuffled a bit before continuing. "I wish we didn't have the group, so I could date you. Only then I wouldn't have met you, so it wouldn't matter."

"Maybe," Chris said, before he could stop himself. "Maybe someday, when the group is well established, when we're not running ourselves into the ground for Lou anymore. When the other three are settled down and there's not so much chance of unbalancing group relationships. Maybe then."

Lance pulled himself on up on one arm, looking down at Chris. He searched his face, seeing nothing but truth there, and fear. He wasn't sure whether Chris was afraid that they'd never both be ready at the same time, or whether he was afraid they would.

"I'm not going to wait for you, Chris. I'm not that strong. But if you're ever ready to give me a chance, you know where I stand." The phone rang then, and Lance answered.

"Hey. No, he left already. Yeah, he's here, just talking. Ok, we're on our way." He hung up, turning back to Chris. "Breakfast in your room." He stood; looking like someone had just run over his dog.

"Cheer up, Bass. This means you can go back to picking up in clubs. You've got to be missing it after a three month drought."

"I'm not. It's strange, but I wasn't really thinking about it. I never even wanted to go out, you know, I just wanted to get back in case Howie called, or in case there was a card. Even without sex, without actually being in the same place, it just felt good just to have him, to know we were a couple."

"Howie's a good guy," Chris said as he opened the door to step into the hall. "I'm glad you had someone like that, even for a short time."

They crossed the hall in silence, but just before he turned the knob Lance stopped him. "Howie was the closest I could get to you without messing with the group," he said softly. "But he wasn't you."

Chris closed his eyes, willing himself to be quiet, not to push it, not to give in. When he opened them, Lance was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta crew, especially Erica for the grammar check.


End file.
